Leapling
by filthyjones
Summary: JUMPER FIC Griffin finally finds someone whom he can care about. She might not have the ability to teleport and maybe she isn't anything special but she does share one common factor: she was born on the 29th of February. CHAPTER 1 & 2 REWRITTEN
1. Chapter 1

**Leapling: Part 1**

In a waiting room in Boston, a man paced the carpeted floors, occasionally sipping on the coffee, now barely lukewarm, in an attempt to calm his nerves. It didn't work. Then again, he supposed that any man in his situation wouldn't have been any less agitated. The constant reminder of where he was by the way health brochures were strewn about the room and the added fact that it was so quiet did not calm him.

He and Jessica, his wife, had been trying out for a baby for years now. After three miscarriages and a stillborn, Jacob Gerhard was more than ready to be a father. He had sworn and vowed and promised to all the gods he could think of that if the next child that Jess conceived came out healthy and safe, he would love them both, unconditionally. In fact it was an unnecessary pledge. Jess was the woman of his dreams; kind, loving, beautiful and ever so willing to forgive his mistakes, which he strived to make sure were far and few in between but wasn't necessarily successful. And there was no question that he would love his baby; the child whom Jess was struggling to deliver not six theatres away. He would dote on her and shower her with all the love he could possibly give. His work would become secondary now; no matter how much pressure his boss placed upon him. Jacob knew how much Jessica worried about him; he sometimes came home sweaty, dirty and bruised from his struggles at work. He never told her the truth about who he was working for or what he did but he suspected his wife had a blurry picture of it. He was always quick to reassure her every morning though that he would be fine, that he would return to her alive every evening.

He heard the door slide open and then a male voice. "Mr. Gerhard?"

Hope - and panic - rendered him temporarily speechless so he just turned and solemnly nodded at the male nurse.

A smile slowly graced the young man's lips. "They're both fine, sir. Mrs. Gerhard wants you to come and see your daughter."

Relief - immense relief that almost had him dropping to his knees, crying and thanking God - washed over him and for a second, the cool exterior that had managed not to betray his genuine emotions, melted and he let out a shaky breath. Following the nurse, who clapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him - words he hardly registered because his brain was still working off the lingering numbness - he entered the operation theatre. His nostrils were sudenly overwhelmed with the smell of blood and and the reeking stench that came with hospitals. All this he pushed away, however. His wife lay in the middle of the room, propped up by two pillows and holding their child.

Jacob's heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful. There was no other word for the newborn that lay in his Jessica's arms.

He approached the bed with timid, hesitant steps. Jessica beamed at him as she saw him come close and Jacob was awed at how she glowed, even after going through the tiresome task of giving birth. Carefully, she turned the baby so that the newborn faced Jacob.

"Hey, little Dyllan, say hi to your Daddy." She cooed.

"Jess, could I..." He was surprised at how choked up he sounded.

Jessica smiled and beckoned him to come closer so that she could transfer their daughter into his arms.

Dyllan. That was the name they had chosen the day they found out it was a girl. The names changed with each unfortunate incident that caused them to lose their baby. Dyllan sounded strong and although it had been meant for a boy, Jacob had fallen in love with it the moment it had rolled off his tongue.

"Little Dyllan, Daddy's little girl."

He liked how that sounded.

And across the Pacific in a small, private operation theatre much like the one he was standing in, a baby boy was being cleaned up and wrapped in warm blue blankets.

"We're calling him Alex." A sharp, authoritarian voice announced. "Have that on his birth certificate and we expect to collect him in a week."

The doctor in charge of the delivery sighed as the father of the child walked away and the mother rolled off to a ward to rest. His focus shifted to baby Alex, eyes shut and breathing steadily. It looked so... innocent. So helpless and adorable. What man would give up the chance to hold the child for a second?

Prosperous and heartless businessmen who probably never had the intention of having a child in the first place, that's who, a bitter inner voice answered.

He shook his head. The child wasn't his and if his father had heard him, he would have probably asked the doctor to mind his damn business. Still, a flicker of pity ignited in his weary and old heart and his last words to the nurse before he punched out, was to give the best care to the boy before his parents 'collected' him. The nurse promised and the doctor left the hospital, feeling that he had done the best he could.

The boy's first week of life was probably the most loving one he would have ever had throughout his childhood, not that he knew it. What he also wouldn't know until almost five years later, was that he had been destined for greater things than a Lamborghini for his seventeenth birthday and a potential scholarship to Eton through his shallow parents and their various connections.

But then again, you live life through every second, no matter how gruelling and brutal it may be and it would take little Alex a long time before he would discover yet another reason to live.


	2. Chapter 2

**Leapling: Part 2**

Jacob Gerhard sighed contentedly as he stored his documents away in a locked cupboard, only to be reviewed tomorrow morning because right now, he had to be getting home to be celebrating Dyllan's fourth birthday. He had never enjoyed keeping a promise so much before; the golden promise he had undertaken to ensure his family's constant happiness and looking back, he was proud to say that he had never once broken it.

The phone rang then, disturbing his peaceful thoughts of a warm bath before dinner and then helping his daughter cut her cake. He frowned slightly as he recognized the voice on the other end.

"Gerhard, have you gone through the files I sent you last week?"

Even after six years of working under him, Jacob had never gotten over the sudden chill that crept up his spine, whenever he spoke with Morgane Constanty. A rank just below the director, he was the third most feared man of the entire building. The second most feared person was the director herself, although Jacob knew she was the most reasonable one amongst the three power figures. That didn't mean she was soft-hearted though. Oh, no, he had seen the other side of Mary Niles; a ruthless and remorseless woman capable of murdering twenty people and still able to sleep soundly at night, no doubt dreaming about the rest of the Jumpers she could capture.

The first, however, was a man who inculcated fear within the most dangerous and not usually ruffled of men with a single look. A piercing gaze which when directed at you, makes you learn a whole new meaning to the phrase 'if looks could kill'. Roland Cox. Just his name sent NSA agents everywhere around the world shaking in spite of themselves. It wouldn't have mattered if you were standing in a human-sized oven; with the heat turned up to a hundred degrees; your limbs would have shivered as if you were standing naked in a snowstorm.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you've added on your part on the research?"

He bit the inside of his cheek. "It's almost done, sir."

"Good. Finish it and send it to me by midnight. Don't fail me, Gerhard."

Before Jacob could protest – not that he would have had the guts to – the line was dead and Jacob was left standing by his desk, mouth agape and looking like he was on the brink of having a stroke.

'Why me?' He roared silently, as he forced himself to call home and convey the unfortunate news to his wife that he wouldn't be able to make it. 'Why today?'

And so, in a way, Jacob Gerhard missed his daughter's very first birthday on the 29th of February, 1992.

* * *

 Alex, at age four, decided that he didn't like his name.

There were twelve 'Alex's in his kindergarten, and if he was supposed to be referred to as Alex Stringer for the rest of his life... well, the little boy simply could not deal with it. His friend Wolf didn't have to; there were no other little boys in the school called Wolf.

He decided he would change his name. But what might he call himself? Sparrow? Panther?

Alex didn't think those were names common enough that out of every hundred people, at least twenty would claim to have it.

It wasn't until he passed by the church one Friday morning that he saw something that truly caught his eye.

Runningin, he managed to catch the attention of a priest who smiled at the eagerness of the young boy when he asked about one of the sculptures.

"Why, young man, that is a griffin. Head and wings of an eagle, body of a lion. It signifies monogamy."

Alex had never been to church before and didn't know exactly what 'monogamy' meant but he liked the word, he liked the animal and he definitely like the priest.

"Giffin." He repeated over and over, after the priest had bade him farewell.

"Giffin."

It wasn't until six years later that he would realize that he had missed a letter in pronounciation and the name 'Giffin' sounded plain weird.

"My name is Griffin." He practiced in front of the mirror. Alex smiled.

Griffin also decided that he didn't like his parents very much. They were arrogant, egoistical and they especially liked to scream at one another. He also did not appreciate them bringing their 'friends' over. Once, over breakfast, he had asked why they always took off their clothes in the presence of said friends and let them 'touch Mummy and Daddy all over'.

This resulted in both adults flushing a furious red before his father choked out a menacing 'Shut up.' After breakfast, Mummy had ordered the nanny to bring him back to his room but even with the door shut and the nanny's hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise, Griffin knew his parents were fighting by the way the floor would vibrate with each vase and crockery being smashed to the ground. He didn't know if he liked such violent people as his sires.

But he restrained his feelings, kept his thoughts to himself because who would bother to listen anyway? His birthday was spent without any proper celebrations, save for a cheerful birthday greeting from the nanny and the maids.

And so, in a way, Griffin never missed his birthdays, in the sense that he had never had a real one at the start.


	3. Chapter 3

**Leapling: Part 3**

_Before you begin to read this chapter, I would firstly like to say that I dedicate this installment to _**superdani152003 **_whose birthday passed almost a week ago. I am so sorry that I never got to writing this chapter out in time but hopefully this, as well as future chapters, will make up for it._

_As for my other reviewers, I also apologize for taking such a long time to draft out my third chapter but it was quite a predicament for me; this is the one where Griffin is finally emancipated from his parents after they are killed and finds himself on the run. Thank you very much to _**Lovebuggy, ****otterwarrior16, ****superdani152003, ****Toxic-Neon,** **i've.got.purple.nail.polish,** **Aria DeLoncray, ****FeeldaForce,** **SilverRain1.3** _and _**Lokelani87**_ for those positively encouraging reviews! I saw from the stat list that this story has been favourited **5** times and is on the alert list of **8** people. Thank you very much, it has been very heartening to know that there are people out there who would like me to continue what I've started._

_Onwards!_

* * *

When Griffin was nine, his house - in spite all the security that his parents had hired - had been invaded. An intoxicated Hiram Stringer had charged towards his intruders, an ornamental katana in hand. Without hesitation, the first two NSA agents buried two nine millimeters into Stringer's lungs. He died within the minute.

The next to go was Edwina Stringer who, also in a drunken rage, had tried to attack her husband's killer with a beer bottle. She went in the same undignified way.

Griffin, who had been upstairs in his playroom with the nanny had stilled at the unfamiliar earsplitting sounds. The nanny however, had heard it before. There was trouble in the house. And she had a faint idea of the reason why. Turning to Griffin, she placed both hands on his shoulders and in the calmest voice she could manage, said to him, calling him by the name he preferred when his parents weren't around. "Griffin, do you remember my apartment - the one we went to when your Mummy and Daddy wanted you away from the house for a while?"

Griffin remembered and he nodded.

"Well I want you to go there. Go there and don't ever come back, do you understand Griffin?"

"Why?" Griffin's eyes were the size of golf balls now, wide and slightly watery.

"Listen, Griff, we don't have a lot of time. You trust Nana, don't you? You love me?"

Griffin nodded without hesitance.

"Then go! Don't come back, Griffin. I promise I'll come for you when it's all good."

Griffin looked at her. "What about you, Nana?"

"I have to stay here." By this time, Meredith Smithers was almost in tears. There was a good chance she wouldn't be alive to come looking for Griffin and she had a feeling that the boy knew it. But she had to protect him, even if he wasn't hers. Her human instincts screamed for escape and survival but Meredith knew better. If she left with him, if questions were asked, then they would come looking for her, wouldn't they? And if they found the boy... she knew they couldn't. Meredith would go out of her way to conceal his abilities from the world until when the day would come when he could take full responsibility of his gift. And she knew it was a gift. Why else would something of his kind exist - if God hadn't permissed it? It was why she was standing there after all, telling him to run and leave her.

"GO, Alex!" She nudged him and he ran across the room but before he could hit the wall... he was gone.

Meredith stared at the space where he had Jumped away, praying feverishly under her breath. The thundering, ominous stomping was coming closer; any second now.

And then... the door was flung open and hardly few seconds passed before she felt her head being struck by something hard and cold - and the room went black. The world never again heard of Meredith Smithers. It wasn't that she was some deceased woman who would turn up in a database somewhere; all records had been wiped and everyone else who knew her, simply forgot about her.

Griffin, by now fully able to control his ability, did not bring a speck of sand from his previous location. He looked about the cold, dark and empty apartment. Suddenly, the place that he had been proud to call his second home, once warm with the love his nanny had given him when his parents could not, scared him. Where was Nana now? What had happened to her? Was she dead like his Mother and Father was?

Griffin had a panic attack. He backed away from where he stood; the exact spot where he had Jumped from as if leeches had sprung from it. He kept backing away slowly, slowly until he hit a table. The tall vase on it toppled, hit the floor and shattered into pieces. Griffin stared at the ruined porcelain, transfixed. Nana's favourite vase. He had given her flowers once, two years ago and when he next came, the whole bunch had been sitting there, looking as alive and well as when he'd first plucked it from the gardens.

He picked up a piece; the biggest and stared at it before allowing it to drop back onto the tiled floors, and breaking into half.

Unable to stand there for one second longer, only to keep reminiscing and thinking the worst, Griffin ventured to the hallway and as quietly and slowly as possible, pulled away the latch and opened the door ajar; just enough to peep out into the corridor. Squinting against the glaring white light, he looked both sides. Empty. It was nine at night; the neighbours were probably settling down to watch reruns of old soap operas like he knew Nana would after she tucked him in. He would always climb back out of bed though; creeping to the kitchen and trying one for one last cookie; fresh because they would bake in the afternoons when it rained and they couldn't go out. His success rate was eighty percent high with few failures ever since he found out he could teleport.

He looked back at the dark apartment. He couldn't stay there; that he knew for sure. So he ventured out; taking itty-bitty, tiny little steps one at a time. He grew bolder with each step until he reached the staircase. Now the question was, did he really want to go down and out of the building? He had nowhere to go, really.

The sudden sounds of footsteps ascending the stairs from a storey below reached his ears and Griffin inadvertently clutched at his chest. 'Not another panic attack', he inwardly groaned. But he was frozen and as his feet stayed rooted to the spot, he wondered if it would always be like this; paranoia triggered by people travelling up and down the stairs. Wonderful. The person eventually surfaced to the landing of the third level and Griffin got a good look at him.

The intruder was a young man, no older than twenty three and he looked extremely exhausted. Trudging up the stairs and hardly looking where he was heading, it was no surprise when he suddenly stopped short two steps of the storey. Griffin had been staring at a mop of dark hair and now he was looking into the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

A beat, then the look of surprise disappeared - or faded away as best it could - and was instantly replaced with a smile. The curious look in his eyes never left though. "Hey there, buddy. What's a young man like you doing out so late at night?"

Griffin kept his silence. The man's accent was foreign but not unfamiliar. An American, living in East Anglia? He wasn't the first and certainly wouldn't be the last.

The young man's eyes travelled over his small, worn frame and paused, stare hardening at something at his waist.

"What happened to your hand?"

The nine year old didn't register what he was saying for a few seconds. Then the shock wore off and he glanced down at his palm. Small, tiny drops of red liquid were starting to drip onto the carpeted floor and he stared at the bloodied wound for a few seconds. The piece of shattered vase... he hadn't realised he had been holding onto it so tightly.

Then he remembered the man, still standing before him and waiting patiently for the boy to answer.

'He's not dumb... is he?' The question unasked was becoming more and more obvious.

Griffin decided to answer with a shrug. The man didn't seem to mean him any harm; the gentle, friendly voice had slowly allowed Griffin to lower his defences just a teeny bit.

"Look, why don't you come with me and I'll fix that hand for ya?"

The man climbed the last two steps and brushed past the shorter boy. When it became obvious that Griffin wasn't about to follow, he stopped and extended a hand. "C'mon, I promise I won't bite."

Griffin was in an impasse. More than half of him wanted to take that hand; a hand that had never done anything but offer a little comfort and now, help. Besides, he really had nowhere to go and after deliberating for no more than ten seconds, he slipped his small hand - the uninjured one - into the stranger's much bigger one and allowed the man to lead him into an apartment at the end of the corridor.

Neither Meredith nor anyone else in the world would prepare him for what he would encounter next.

* * *

 A/N: Three days ago, I finally stepped out of the bubble world I've been living in ever since I first watched Jumper and realized that the Griffin Steven Gould has given a story to and the one I'm writing about is so AU, it's not even amusing! For one, Steven Gould's "Griffin O'Conner" actually has parents who support him in his abilities and then there's the issue of totally different backgrounds. The point I'm trying to make is - are you interested in reading a story that goes against everything its creator has set? If you are, proceed, and then drop by the reviews corner to give me feedback on whether this should be continued. I would really very much appreciate it if you did.


End file.
